Part From Me
by daisyfleabane
Summary: His love for her was endless, but not in the good way. It was antagonizing, no matter what he couldn't shake it. Even when he hated her, he still loved her. Always. Peeta's story through District Thirteen and finally growing back together in Twelve. Everlark. Slight canon divergence.


_This story follows Peeta through his time in District 13 to the "growing back together" in District 12. _  
><em>Part 1 is a little slower moving, but I promise there is more Katniss coming up. <em>

_Rated M for later chapters. _

_Certain lines in this story are taken from Suzanne Collin's Mockingjay. I disclaim any ownership. _

* * *

><p>His love for her was endless, but not in the good way. It was antagonizing, no matter what he couldn't shake it. Even when he hated her, he still loved her<em>. Always<em>. For fuck's sake. She was like a migraine, a cold that wouldn't go away and that was only on the good days. On the bad days she felt like a terminal illness. There was no cure, no way to rid himself of Katniss Everdeen.

When he looked into her eyes he hated what he saw; a monster, a mutt, a murderer. Still, at the same time he loved what he saw, even though he wasn't sure what exactly that was. Warm memories that made the tips of his fingers tingle as they fight to break the surface of his mind. How is it possible for his body to think one thing and his heart to believe another? Every sensible bone in his body tells him to kill her, but his heart flutters at the thought of her holding his hand. It only drives him more crazy, only makes him want to hurt her more.

He shouldn't be alive, he thinks, he should have died with his family. Burned or crushed or suffocated, materialized to ash. A memory. So many lives have already been lost, so many lives are yet to be lost—_and all at her hands, all because of her_—he doubts anyone else in the world even remembers his family. He is the only one left to mourn them, but he is too angry to even do that. There is no one left in the world but him who knows the soft wrinkles of his father's smile, the crackle of his voice like a flame as he explained the secrets of family recipes, or the sound of his brothers racing down the stairs—there is no one left to tease him the way only they could, to pave the way for him. Even his mom is gone, her soft hands, her stern looks. Everything he knows is shattered like glass and he can't be bothered to pick up the pieces.

Everyone says he loved her. Love destroys people, and besides he doesn't even know what love is.

…

The war is raging on outside District 13. The rebels are gaining on the capitol and everyone buzzes with hope, except him. He doesn't care either way, he decides. What would it matter? The doctors hover over him all day, flushing his system with bags of clear liquid and shoving videos of _her_ in his face. He's strapped to his bed, his wrists secured at his side. He might as well still be in the capitol; it's all the same.

…

His treatments begin to work. He can eat again and feels less manic, less likely to choke the nurse with long, brown hair. Haymitch still seems worried, still seems to waver before he speaks—something Peeta can never remember him doing before, not that his memory is the best. Plutarch is hopeful, thinks he'll be able to do a few propos of his own before long, "Wouldn't that be perfect, to show them you and Katniss together again, fighting for the rebels side by side?" The idea makes Peeta so angry that his vision blurs and his hands start to shake.

All sorts of people begin to visit once it's determined he's no longer lethal—not that he ever was to anyone but Katniss, the one person who hasn't shown face since the last time he threw acid words at her. The memory makes him want to fall into a black hole, but it makes another part of him smile.

One day Prim appears in his hospital doorway, she's wearing the outfit all the nurses wear. "Hey," Her voice is small from across the room, right hand clutching at her left elbow as she peers at him nervously. He offers only a small smile and pulls his thin blanket up his chest, embarrassed of his condition—he's thin, he hasn't washed his hair in days and his body is still covered in bruises from Snow's torture. "You look much better." She drops her hands to her side and walks towards him, seeming to have decided not to be afraid of him.

"Thanks," His voice comes out groggy, he hasn't spoken all day, "I—uh. I feel better." He actually feels like shit, but how can he say that Prim? She can't help who her sister is, or who her sister doesn't love. Peeta thinks he might finally hate someone more than he hates her, and that's himself.

Prim looms above his bed. She hums as she checks the machine that beeps next to him, monitoring who knows what, as if she has been doing it her whole life. He wonders if Katniss knows she's here, doubts it and then flinches as his mind whirls into self-pity and hating her, wanting her dead. He can picture her so clearly; knife in hand ready to slash his throat. _She'll do the same to Prim if you don't stop her, she'll kill everyone. _

"P-Prim, you shouldn't be here." He manages to say threw his clenched jaw. His mouth pools with blood as he bites down on his tongue, willing himself not to say anything mean, to do anything regrettable.

Her small hand is on his bicep then and he feels so small and broken, he has so many emotions and can't figure any of them out. "It's okay," she soothes, "You're going to be okay." He can feel her sit on the bed next to him but keeps his eyes screwed shut, even as he feels himself calm down. "You know, she loves you. You make her everything she never wanted to be, weak for someone besides me." Prim gently places a hand on his forearm and her voice drops as if she's sharing a secret with a lifelong friend, "She barely sleeps, wakes up screaming your name every single night." He doesn't think Katniss would like Prim saying these things to him. He doesn't want to believe her, but he can't help the rush of his heart as he hears her say what he thinks he's waited a very long time to hear, "You have to believe what your heart tells you to, I know you still love her."

He keeps his eyes shut as she stands back up and doesn't open them until minutes after he hears the door click shut. When he opens them and is alone again, he's not sure if he imagined the whole thing or if it really did happen.

…

Days pass meaninglessly. He's allowed to leave his hospital room, finally. The first day he wanders around the halls, pauses outside of Johanna's room and considers going in but decides against it when he hears the familiar song of Katniss's voice. His heart drops to his stomach and his insides go cold. Before he has time to even think, he's flying back down the hallway and ducking under the cocoon of blankets on his bed. He can barely breathe, can barely contain himself. It takes every single ounce of his sanity not to go tearing back down that hallway and wrap his hands around her fucking throat. Pound her head into the ground and make her feel his pain. He want her to know how much he hates her. She never cared about him, not even a little bit. What a stupid idiot he was for ever seeing her as anything but the mutt killer she is.

…

He's on day three of pacing anxiously around his room, drinking protein drink after chalky protein drink from a nurse with stringy yellow hair—he lashed out at the one with hair the color of Katniss's and now she isn't allowed near him—in an attempt to get his body weight back up. They say it's for his health, but he presumes it has more to do with being attractive for the propos Plutarch has planned. He's nearly done counting the tiles that line the ceiling (for the fifth time in a row) when his door swings open and Haymitch's loud footsteps break him from his trance.

"Y'okay?" Is his greeting and Peeta just shrugs, resigns himself to the center of his bed and crosses his arms, "The doc says you don't have to stay in here all day, might be good for you to get out and stretch your legs."

"I'm fine."

"Well, I brought you real clothes. Thought you might want to get out of the dress they've put you in." He rubs the stubble across his chin, and Peeta nods a thank you, "I want to apologize and set things straight with you."

Peeta can tell he's struggling with his words, swimming in uncharted territory. He looks down at his hands, realizes if not for his current condition Haymitch would never be so kind to him. He misses the drunk, fumbling idiot who he feared would pass out drunk before the first cannon boomed in the 74th hunger games.

"I don't know if," He pauses again, reconsiders his words, "Well, no matter what you feel now, you and me made a deal to save the girl. You made me promise you that no matter what Katniss came out alive. I wanted to save both of you, Peeta, I really did."

"Why?" His voice feels stuck in his throat.

"Because you should've never been sent back into the damn arena in the first pl—"

"No, I mean why did I want you to save Katniss? Why would I give up my own life for her?" He asks because he truly wants to know, because he's spent days trying to figure out what it is about her that sets him off into such extremes that he either wants to kill her or save her. Either way, he would give everything for her.

"You've got me there," Haymitch jokes, but the light in his eyes dims when he sees Peeta's confused face and he clears his throat to mark all seriousness, "Because you love her, told me once that you have for as long as you can remember. I guess I don't know much about all that love stuff, hell, I don't know much about anything. But, one of the things I've known to be true since I first met you is how much you love that girl."

Peeta shuts his eyes, enjoys the darkness and tries to push away this information but he can't hide anymore. Trickles of himself bubble to the surface and eradicate the person the capitol made him into each day. He opens his eyes and looks the only person here who might really know him in the eye—blue meets blue.

"Even now?" Haymitch nods, "But, I tried to kill her—I had my hands around her throat. I wish her dead more often than not, how can that be love?"

They're interrupted by a small knock on the door frame and he is stunned to look up and see her standing there. Realizing she probably heard most of what they just said only makes his emotions more muddled. He tries to focus on what Haymitch has said, what Prim said a few weeks back, and what his own heart is saying. His body is electric, his pulse is fast and he has to bite the insides of his cheeks to suppress his smile and she hasn't even spoken yet. Maybe he does love her. _Or maybe she's fooling you, she's created to make you feel this way. This is how she'll destroy you._

"Sorry, I didn't mean to…" Her eyes lock with his and neither of them can break the trance, "I was just dropping this off. I thought you'd be at lunch." She sets a small parcel in the doorway and turns and walks away.

He opens his mouth to call her back, to invite her in but he isn't sure if he wants to pull her against his chest and feel her heart beat or to crush her so he lets her leave.

"What are the chances of that?" Haymitch mumbles under his breath and saunters towards the door, "I mean what I said about getting out. Cooping yourself away from the world isn't a good way to get better, trust me" He tosses the brown bag Katniss left towards him, "And give her a change, give yourself a chance damn it."

…

The parcel sits next to his bed for a week and a half. It isn't until after he's learned about her being in the capitol, in the midst of a war, that he tears the brown bag open. A part of him hopes that she's inside the bag, even though he knows how absurd that it. The thought that she is there in the capitol without him drives him mad. The thought that she could be blown to pieces while he sits underground, actionless in District 13 is enough to make him think that maybe he really did love her. He wants to, wanted to—he isn't even sure—kill her himself, but now the idea of someone else doing it sets his heart of fire with a worry so deep the nurses have to double his sleeping pills.

Inside the bag is a simple notebook, identical to the ones his mother used to send him off to school with. She's included a collection of pens and pencils of varying sizes and age, as if she had to scavenge for them around the district the way she used to with food. He flips the notebook open, expects to find it empty and gasps when he instantly recognizes the slope of her handwriting—he isn't sure how he knows her handwriting, just that he does.

'Peeta, I thought you might want to draw.—Katniss.

He can see eraser marks and smudges below the simple sentence as if she had wanted to write more, had started to several times and then stopped herself. He knows he should have opened this days ago, so he would have had the chance to thank her before she dies in this war.

This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for him.

If she dies now and he lives, it will be just like before. He'll have no reason to go on.

…

He gets sent to the capitol to join the star squad. He doesn't really understand why, he has had minimal military training and he's clinically insane. Sending him to fight this war, especially near Katniss, is suicide. No matter how much he thinks he might love her when he's locked away with his own thoughts, there's no telling what actually being around her will be like. How deep his scars might truly be.

He realizes on the hovercraft that the point is for him to kill Katniss. Coin wants her dead. Once again, it has nothing to do with him or needing him and everything to do with eradicating her. It makes him resent her, resent fighting in this war. Who really cares, what difference would it make? Win, lose, democracy or not, he's still going to be miserable.

…

Peeta never had trouble around people. Not until now, at least. He is alienated, the odd one out and he feels how big of a burden he is with every sideways glance from the other soldiers. Except for Katniss, because that would require her to actually glance his way. Gale is always near her, blocking her from his view and sending arrows with his eyes that pierce Peeta's heart. He had almost forgotten that she was never his to love to begin with.

Finnick offers Peeta a length of rope one night when they're both restless. He doesn't understand at first, for a second thinks it's meant to be a means to end his life and feels grateful that someone understands. Instead, Finnick ties the rope over and over again and then hands it back, "Helps me clear my mind, but I don't really need to anymore. All your's now."

"Thanks." He mutters and begins to mindlessly tie knots, finding it is enough distraction to at least calm his heart rate. Katniss's rejection and refusal to have anything to do with him has only sent him falling backwards into rage. _She never loved you, she never cared, she is a mutt. A fucking ugly, dirty mutt. _She really is a disease, something he'll never be able to shake until he kills her himself.

"The worst thing about love is that you think it's going to be easy and it never is." Finnick shakes his head, "Especially for us, especially here and now."

"Love is pointless." Peeta replies coldly, as if he isn't the boy who declared his love for a girl in front of all of Panem.

"Love kept you alive, Peeta. It still is." Peeta feels sorry for Finnick, so blinded by his newly returned love that he can't see the truth—that it's artificial, that it will go away, that it only lasts so long before everything shatters around you, "I thought it was fake, too. I was convinced she didn't love you, I thought you guys were so clever to have thought of such a complex strategy. A good show was all anyone wanted, and you guys gave them exactly that. For the first time the people in the capitol didn't want the tributes to die. And then in that arena..."

"Well, you're right. It was all fake. She isn't capable of love, she's just a heartless mutt. I'd watch out or she'll kill you too. She burned my whole family to death." The words spill out of him as the dark thoughts wrap around his mind and pull him under.

"You don't mean that, buddy." Finnick pats his back sympathetically before walking back to his tent and zipping it shut.

…

Finnick comes up with a game to help him decipher the truth from the made up things. He wants him to ask if something is real rather than sit on it himself. Katniss joins in, her voice is warmer than before and her eyes soft when they land on him.

She looks contemplative, as if she's trying to figure something out and as he watches her he tries to remember what he knows to be true.

"Your favorite color…" He hopes he's right, "Is green?"

The smile that instinctively covers her face before she has time to stop it is enough to make him wish he were dead, because he knows he'll never have that smile. He knows Katniss, no matter if they're friends or not, will never love him the way the he loves her—hijacking or not, he has always loved her. It's his biggest weakness, it's why he's able to hate her so fiercely.

…

Everything turns to a mess. People die as if they weren't human and Peeta thinks that no matter how many violent deaths he sees he'll never really be desensitized. He wants them to just leave him behind, let him die. He doesn't want to cause any more deaths, he doesn't want to slow them or risk hurting Katniss.

No one else seems to agree with him, they've seen too much death today to let him go too. He can tell by the look in her eyes that Katniss would carry him through the capitol if she had to. He doesn't understand why. After everything she should want him dead. Besides, he's only slowing them down and delaying the victory against Snow she's so thirsty for.

They go below the city into the unknown. She makes him eat a can of soup, unknowingly convinces him to try and survive. Her hands brush the hair out of his face and then linger against his cheek. He realizes now just how starved for affection he has been, this small action seems enough to thaw him and he's craving more when her hands drop back to her sides.

"You're still trying to protect me. Real or not real?" He whispers, hands fidgeting for the chance to reach out and touch her. He has to remind himself that she isn't his, that he doesn't deserve her and that a small part of him wants to kill her still and if he knows anything it is that he can't let that happen.

"Real," She smiles softly and for a second he think she might touch him again, "That's what you and I do. We protect each other."

He closes his eyes and thinks he's done a pretty shitty job of protecting her. Then he remembers holding her in his arms as they slept, remembers promising her _Always_, remembers kissing the top of her head and inhaling as she slept nestled into his side. He always awoke from dreams of losing her, and on the nights they spent together he would be so relieved to wake up thrashing next to her—not only was she alive, but she was sleeping with her hair splayed across his pillow. He remembers this as he falls asleep, and for the first time since the hijacking he doesn't dream of her killing him.

…

Finnick is dead. The rope he gave Peeta feels fifty pounds in the pocket of his pants. Peeta thinks of Annie and how she is now damaged beyond repair, even though she doesn't know it yet. It should have been him instead of Finnick, he chants in his head. Finnick had a life. All Peeta has is his madness and the empty space of everyone he's lost—add Finnick to that list now. He can't go on. Katniss will have a better chance without him, they all will. He begins to tremble, he feels like he's drowning, choking on the air that won't fill his lungs.

Katniss seems to waver for only a second before declaring that they need to keep moving, everyone sets into motion except for Peeta who has sunk to the floor.

"Peeta?" Katniss is in front of him, silver eyes attempting to grab at his own, "Peeta?" Her hands cup his face and she tries to will him to stand up, to keep moving. They can't stop now. She tells him he can do it, refutes his protests and never once takes her hands off his face or his eyes off of his.

"I'm losing it, I'll go mad. I'll turn into one of them." The memory of the mutts tearing apart their friends is still fresh in all of their minds. He can't help but fear he'll give in and kill her, because all along it was him who was the mutt. He was the capitols creation and then Coin's toy, set loose to destroy their biggest threat. The girl on fire.

Her eyes flash to the left for a second and then her lips press into his, startling him out of his thoughts. His body seems to freeze and then warm, his body shakes as every emotion amplifies and ripples through his body. In this moment he thinks he knows that he loves her and wonders why he ever needed to be reminded. She pulls away and cradles his chin in her palm, gives him a stern look, "Don't let him take you away from me."

His love plateaus, something that feels like confusion and rage bubbles towards the surface of his skin and he tries to push it away and focus on what he knew to be true a second before, "I don't want to…" One hand finds his and squeezes tight as the other runs through his hair, pushing it away from his face.

"Stay with me." Her voice is tender now, though her hand still crushes his as if she's trying to help hold on to the old Peeta. Her words spark memories from a different life, promises made and he feels the rage dissipate, retreat back to the recess of his mind. He lets out a breath.

"Always."

…

They're practically elbow to elbow in Tigris's basement and he's so worried he'll have an episode in such a small confinement that he makes sure both of his hands are cuffed above his head. Katniss suggests they all try and sleep, and everyone else seems to drift off with ease while he lays awake and tries to make out the rise and fall of Katniss's sleeping form across the small room.

Eventually his eyes grow too heavy and he drifts into a dream of Katniss. They're on the rooftop of the training center, he leans forward to place a kiss on her lips and when they're just inches from each other her eyes go dark and with the turn of her head she has the face of a tiger. He tries to move but her massive paw is crushing down on his chest. Her sharp teeth dig into his neck and he wakes up shouting for help.

"Hey," A voice says a few feet away from him, "Peeta, hey, you alright?" He blinks and gasps as he tries to catch his breath and slow his thudding heart. It takes him a second to see that it is Gale, crouched in the corner, gazing at him suspiciously.

"Yeah, sorry." He tries to sit up, but struggles for a few seconds too long with his hands awkwardly cuffed above him.

"Bad dream?" Gale asks and Peeta can't help but wonder what his sudden interest is. He's barely spoken to him a handful of times since his rescue. Peeta nods slightly and tries to hide the cough tickling at the back of his throat. The air down there is so stale and he hasn't had a drink since the day before.

"Here," Gale shifts to the left and grabs a canteen from the bag beside him, "Have a drink, it's dry down here."

Gale scoots forwards and holds the canteen out to Peeta who takes four large gulps and nods his head in gratitude. Neither of them know exactly what to say, if there even is anything to say.

"Sorry if I woke you up." Peeta says, his eyes fall from Gale's form to Katniss sleeping across from him, "Thank you for the water."

He feels like he's being too formal, thinks that after everything they've gone through together in the past few days they would be friends by default in another life. Peeta isn't sure if that's possible in any world involving Katniss, though.

…

Years later he would try and recall the exact events of the day the war ended, and find that no matter how hard he tried he still couldn't fit all the pieces of his memory back together.

He is walking behind Katniss and Gale, trying to keep them in his sight and not let them get lost in the crowd. Before long, though, his vision starts to blur and every form just looks like a movement of color. His head starts to spin with fear—the cost of this war, the prices he has already paid, seem overwhelming. He isn't sure exactly what it is he's even supposed to be doing, just knows that putting distance between him and Katniss is best right now. He braces himself against a bright yellow building, steadies himself and looks towards the president's mansion. Children are gathered, some sort of human firewall he guesses and shakes his head at the irony.

He's scanning the tops of people's heads for Gale or Katniss when the parachutes start to fall from the sky.

The first explosion shakes the ground beneath his feet, the crowd grows frantic and everyone runs in opposite directions while indistinguishable screams fill the square.

"Katniss!" He yells, running towards the chaos because he's never learned to run from things that will destroy him, "Katniss!" No one can hear him, everyone passes by without a second glance. Fire erupts in front of him, a mass of blood and limbs and ash. If he had the wherewithal he would wonder if this is what it was like for his family, but instead he keeps pushing forward looking for her. White uniforms rush toward the explosion. He recognizes the brunette nurse from thirteen and connects that they're rebel aids just as the second explosion erupts right in front of him.

He's too close to get away without any marks, he can feel the fire burn his skin but he keeps pushing through the crowd, sure that she'll be just around the next group of people. He must circle the front of the mansion a dozen times before he finally sees her standing motionless, burns across her arms and silent sobs escaping her.

"Katniss!?" He grabs her by the shoulders, "We have to get out of here, let's go! Where's Gale?"

She shakes her head and sinks towards the charred earth. Embers are still falling around them like red snow, the medics from 13 are now ash. One word escapes her lips before she collapses in violent sobs, "Prim!" His heart drops to his shoes when he realizes what this must mean.

Pushing away his fears, he kneels down next to her and decides to compartmentalize anything he is feeling now and deal with it later. Right now he has to get her somewhere safe. He wraps his arms around her and cradles her like an infant, fumbling on his prosthetic for a moment before pushing toward the new batch of rebel aids rushing the injured into medevac.

…

The war ends. It's a new beginning for Panem, and even he can't help but start to feel hopeful for generations to come. He's still in the hospital, waiting to hear the decision of Katniss's trial when Haymitch finally visits. He's seen him all but once since the war ended. The older man has an apologetic look in his eyes when he takes a seat next to the hospital bed. Peeta thinks he must realize how alone he's been, Haymitch is all he has left.

"I'm going to bring Katniss back to twelve tomorrow. There are already people there starting to clean up the—" He stops himself, realizing Peeta's family is part of what they'll be cleaning up, "They're going to rebuild the districts. I think it's best we all get out of here."

"She's free?" Is all Peeta takes away from his words.

"Conditionally, yes." Haymitch stands up, of course his visit wouldn't be long, "The hovercraft leaves around noon, I guess I'll just see you then."

"What?!" Peeta sits up straight, "No, I'm not…" He shakes his head, "I'm staying here."

A team has already been assembled to put him back together, to expel what remains of his hijacking and get him back to his old self—or at least as close as possible. He knows going back to Twelve now would mean disaster.

They argue, but eventually Haymitch concedes and leaves him alone. Before he leaves he shakes his hand, tells him to call and promises to take care of Katniss—but only temporarily.

…

Weeks pass and he wonders how Katniss is doing back in Twelve. Haymitch doesn't answer his phone and he can't bring himself to dial her house, worried what he might find on the other end of the line.

For the most part he is alone. There are other injured soldiers and civilians in the hospital, but he keeps to himself. After all, he's there because he's crazy and they're there because their legs have been blown off or they've been shot through the stomach.

He wonders about Johanna, Delly, and Annie—he worries about her. He wonders if Gale is back in Twelve, too. Wonders if anyone has cleaned the remains of his family, if anyone has cleared the space where Mellark's Bakery once stood. No one calls him so he doesn't know, and he makes no effort to reach any of them. He thinks maybe that's for the best, maybe he should start over fresh. He's never been but a burden to a single soul anyways.

His therapist suggests he moves out of the hospital. He doesn't push the issue or threaten release, only wonders outloud occasionally what it is he plans to do with his life. "You can't live in the hospital forever," he gently reminds him.

One day when the door to his room opens he's taken back in surprise with who has come to see him. It is the last person he would have expected. Gale Hawthorne stands, tall and brooding as ever, in the center of his room searching for words. He's managed to escape the war without any visible damage.

"Just thought I'd come see how you're holding up," He shrugs his shoulders and surveys the room. Peeta feels pathetic and worthless, unable to pull himself back together so he's decided to lay dormant. What did they fight so hard for again?

"I thought you'd be back in Twelve by now." He doesn't mean the words to come out as accusing as they do.

"Nah, nothing there for me anymore." He scrunches his face and runs a hand along his newly grown beard, both of them seem to realize this includes Katniss in the same moment, "Don't know how she does it, I don't think anything in the world could get me to go back."

He wants to agree, but in that moment Peeta realizes that Twelve is home. It is exactly where he wants to be. Unlike Gale, Peeta is willing to face the destruction, willing to rebuild and start fresh in the same spot. He doesn't think there's anything in the world that could make him want anything more than to go home.

"I'm going to District Two tomorrow," Gale reveals, "Paylor offered me a job in government. It's a small, starting position and I'll have to work my way up but she thought I was well suited after everything."

"Sounds great," He isn't sure what else to say, "I think I'm going back to Twelve soon… We should—uh, we should stay in touch."

"Yeah," Gale nods once, they both know full well staying in touch won't happen, "If you see Katniss tell her hi and that—that I'm," His eyes mist over, "Just tell her I'm sorry."

Peeta isn't sure what Gale has to be sorry for or why he can't just tell her himself but he nods in agreement anyway.

…

Two weeks later he's on a train back to District 12.

* * *

><p><em>Let me know what you think! Part 2 should be posted later this week. <em>  
><em>Everlark to come. <em>

_Thank you so much for reading. _


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